


Pieces of Silver

by FleetSparrow



Category: Sherlock Holmes Series - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Betrayal, Everybody Lives, Everyone is Bisexual, Fix-It of Sorts, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Manipulation, Moriarty is Moriarty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: In which Devereux “escapes” and Chase agrees to work with Jones in his new private detective career.Things go downhill from there.
Relationships: James Moriarty/Athelney Jones
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1
Collections: Villainous Big Bang 2020





	Pieces of Silver

**Author's Note:**

> It’s not finished, but maybe the love and adoration of my peers will motivate me.

_Devereux climbed back into the coach. The driver pulled hard on the reins, turning the horses around, and drove them hard down the tunnel._

_ Jones swung his walking stick round so that the tip faced towards Mortlake and at the same moment I saw that he had unscrewed the raven’s head to reveal a hollow interior. Holding the stick with one hand, he inserted the index finger of the other and twisted. At once there was an explosion, deafening in the confined space, and a great red chasm appeared in Mortlake’s stomach. The blast had almost torn him in half. A wisp of smoke curled up from the bottom of the walking stick which, I now understood, had concealed an ingenious gun. Mortlake groaned. He fell to the ground and lay still. _

_ The gun had one bullet only. _

_ “Now!” Jones shouted and the two of us rose up from our chairs together. With remarkable speed Jones lashed out with the stick and struck the man nearest to him in the face. For my part, I swung my elbow into the throat of my assailant who fell, gurgling, to his knees. _

_ There were still four thugs who had not been harmed and two of them had produced revolvers. They had formed a semi-circle around us and where about to fire. _

_ And then the lights went out. _

Jones grabbed my sleeve and, quite forcefully, pulled me to the ground. His quick action saved my life as Mortlake’s men opened fire exactly where we had been standing. We inched along the ground in the dark, though in which direction I was not sure. It was only when a second volley was fired that I found we had, thankfully, moved away from the gunfire.

Light suddenly broke through the darkness and, to my horror, I realized that we had not moved far enough. One of the hooligans had managed to light a lantern and the others had once again found us. I braced for the inevitable when, to my amazement, the man with the lantern reeled back, a flash of red spraying from the back of his head. The lantern crashed to the ground and extinguished.

This time, I pulled Jones away from the gunfire. We pitched through the darkness, stumbling up the sloping ground towards the street, running as fast as our bruised bodies could manage in the hellish blackness that enfolded us. Someone, certainly, had shot the man with the lantern, but who? And with what? I had heard no gunshot. Somehow, in the darkness, Jones and I had linked arms, and both of us equally supporting and pulling the other onward, we made our way up.

How far could it be to safety? In the dark, my eyes had still been trained downward, as though my blind eyes might still be able to see some obstacle in our way. Now, they looked up to find a small light, that of a glowing candle, flickering some distance before us.

“There!” I called to Jones.

We rushed toward it, bullets striking the walls beside us. Suddenly, the great underground steam train Devereux had mentioned came barrelling down tracks beside us. The light of the locomotive revealed us to our pursuers. I chanced a look back, only to see that we had not put enough distance between us. Yet, as the train’s light flickered between the arches and brickwork, I saw one man clutch at his throat, gurgling on his own blood, and the silhouette of a child. It could only have been Perry, that vicious boy with his blade, but why? And yet, even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except escaping this horrible place.

Choking on smoke and steam, and once again plunged into darkness as the train passed us, we made our way to the candle. It was placed at a corner and, turning it, we saw the moonlit sky. We climbed a metal staircase that led, finally, up to the beautiful, clean air of a London meat market.

When we finally found a policeman to whom we could tell our story, and, some time later, were in a carriage heading for Jones’s home in Camberwell.

The next day, late in the afternoon, Jones called on me at Hexam’s Hotel. From his pained expression, I thought at once that the Scotland Yard enquiry had already occurred, but his news was worse.

“Devereux never returned to the legation.”

“How can that be?” I asked. “He can’t have left England.”

“From what Scotland Yard was told, De Vriess has vanished from the legation. No one saw him leave last night, and yet he is not anywhere to be found.”

“Could he have already heard about Mortlake’s demise?”

Jones shook his head. “I doubt it. Where would he have heard it unless he was still underground with us? Yet, you and I know that when he left, he had no expectation that we would survive. It is as if the earth swallowed him whole.”

Jones sighed, bowing his head. “There is now nowhere to go with this case. Without Devereux, how can we possibly prove his involvement?” He met my gaze. “There are so many questions still open. To have finally found him only to lose him again. It beggars belief!”

I laid my hand on his wrist. “Our first task must be to heal and see what can be done now. Come upstairs and rest.” Although there was hardly anyone in the small dining room, I felt it imperative that we plan our next moves in private.

“Yes,” Jones said. “I am tired.”

I led him up to my room. The news of Devereux’s disappearance and our injuries weighed heavily upon us, but even more so on Jones. I could see, for the first time, how ill he truly still was.

“We will find him,” I assured him. “But for now, what of your position in Scotland Yard?”

Jones waved an impatient hand. “I have been as good as dismissed. It is only a matter of formalities.”

“I have been thinking about your offer,” I said, and, in truth, I had been considering it quite seriously. One could say that, at that time, Athelney Jones was my only true friend in the city.

For the first time that day, I saw light in his eyes. “And?”

“I would be happy to be your partner.”

He stayed late that night talking excitedly about our future. It was then when I was struck with the desire, the *need*, to touch him. I reached forward and laid my hand upon his knee. He stammered slightly, and came to a stop altogether, perhaps wondering if I had something to say.

I did not.

I eased myself up from my chair and stood above him. A question rose in his grey eyes, and his lips parted to ask it. Bracing one hand on the arm of his chair, I leaned down and kissed him.

A startled noise passed from his lips to mine as he worked to process what was happening. He did not push me away, however, and, after a moment’s hesitation, returned the kiss. We parted, our faces inches from each other.

“My wife,” he said softly, as if reminding himself of her existence.

“What is a kiss between partners?” I asked.

When I kissed him again, he did not hesitate at all.

I need not recount everything that was said and done over the course of the next two hours, but, by the time Athelney Jones left to return to his home, I had been twice satisfied. The physical urge had passed so that, even if Jones returned tomorrow to say we could not continue our romance, I would be settled for quite some time. I was also satisfied that I had not overplayed my hand. We could still work together, and perhaps this new closeness would be useful in our future situation.

I slept that night, for the first time in many nights, without dreams of death.


End file.
